


Gunpowder

by mysticanni



Series: Heart of Glass [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bonfire, Fireworks, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Love, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 02:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21312556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Crystal and Roger are in love and watching a firework display.
Relationships: Chris “Crystal” Taylor/Roger Taylor
Series: Heart of Glass [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485515
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Gunpowder

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that popped into my head while I was at a firework display.

It was the fifth of November. They had a few days off after an extensive and gruelling tour. Roger was exhausted but Crystal had persuaded him to go with him to their local park to watch the firework display.

  
It was a cold dry, still night. Perfect conditions for fireworks, Crystal noted as he wound a long woollen scarf around Roger’s neck.

  
The bonfire had been constructed across the duck pond from the crowd presumably to keep small children (and Roger, Crystal thought) away from fire or fireworks. There was still a risk of a small child (or Roger) ending up in the duck pond Crystal reflected and with that in mind he steered Roger to a viewing point slightly uphill from the pond. There didn’t seem to be an effigy of Guy Fawkes on the bonfire and Crystal was slightly relieved by that: he felt uncomfortable by seeing anything that looked too human being burnt. It seemed a primitive thing to do, although he supposed the whole thing was primitive, really: fire and light in the darkness.

  
Under cover of the darkness and hidden amidst the crowd, Crystal slipped his arm around Roger’s waist. Roger snuggled against him and then tilted his head so he could kiss Crystal. As they separated a little voice said, ‘Are you an angel?’

  
A little boy was staring wide-eyed at Roger. Roger pulled away from Crystal and crouched down in front of the child. He treated the boy to a dazzling smile and winked at him, placing one finger to his lips. ‘I am an angel,’ Roger confided to the child, in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I am not supposed to be here. You won’t tell anyone you saw me, will you?’

  
Crystal was relieved when the little boy shook his head and skipped off. No one else seemed to have noticed the encounter, or their kiss, as the fire had now been lit and people were watching the flames lick up the wooden construction. The organisers had evidently used some accelerant as the wood was ablaze within minutes.

  
Roger pressed against his side again and Crystal automatically curved his arm around him. He found himself glancing round anxiously to ensure that they were not about to attract unwanted attention and loathed that he felt he had to do that.

  
Still, the last thing they needed was an angry mob chasing them and shouting about how sinful their love was. Ever since what they now referred to as The Incident when Roger had been attacked and raped Crystal had been determined that Roger should never have to face anything stressful or traumatic ever again. He couldn’t do that really, he knew, but he was definitely going to try.

  
And now he was thinking about The Incident and how they had to hide their relationship in public when he had wanted to just watch the firework display. He looked at the fire. Sparks danced upwards. The flames seemed to ripple and pulsate like a living creature. Like Roger, Crystal thought: warm, alive, unpredictable, with the potential to get out of control and become dangerous. The fire fed off its surroundings, sucking in air and consuming wood, but it also provided heat and warmth and light and that was a little like Roger too: taking but also incredibly generous.

  
*

  
The still water of the duck pond reflected the flames. The fire crackled and popped. Roger nestled against Crystal. He was slightly bothered about having lied to the little boy. He hoped the child did not develop some kind of complex about angels. Although he supposed there were worse things to believe in than angels.

  
He had found himself looking around them before he re-attached himself to Crystal’s side. He had felt the familiar tiring fear of attracting the wrong attention; of being in the wrong place at the wrong time being hurt by the wrong people.

  
He had found himself thinking that he should have worn a hat to cover up his noticeable hair. His very existence, the way he looked, was too risky. Once the press had heard that he had been attacked their coverage of The Incident had suggested that Roger had deserved what had happened: what had he expected with his long hair, unbuttoned shirts and tight jeans? He had invited people to look and the implication had been that he could hardly complain when people had decided to go a step further and touch.

  
Crystal was solid and reassuring next to him. Crystal was like the fire, Roger thought: warm but also wild; steady but also exciting; strong and beautiful. Although the flames flung themselves out like the wings of a giant phoenix Roger thought that at the heart of the fire, at its core, it burned with a steady rhythm.

  
A firework exploded above them in a shower of green and gold. Roger blinked. Everything was slightly hazy without his glasses, the colours merging into a kaleidoscopic blur. The crowd ‘oohed’. Then the explosions were coming thick and fast. And the fireworks were like Crystal too, Roger thought: powerful, thrilling and vibrant. Like Crystal, the fireworks had a slightly dark edge to them: handle with care or risk an unexpected outburst.

  
*

  
Roger could be compared to the fireworks too, Crystal reflected. He watched the colours spread like molten jewels across the black velvet backdrop of the night sky: emerald green; ruby red; sapphire blue; flashes of gold with a shimmering mesmerising beauty that took the breath away and made you long for more, more, more; addictive and entrancing. The fireworks were other-worldly: magical, transient and ethereal; heavenly and untouchable yet in order to produce their magic they had to be lit. Crystal glanced at Roger: light the blue touch paper and stand well back. Unlike Roger fireworks came with instructions.

  
There was a boom as a particularly powerful rocket was launched and then a bang as it burst high in the air showering golden light downwards. The golden spirals made a shrieking noise and a small child began to cry. The water in the duck pond glowed. Crystal idly wondered where all the ducks had gone.

  
Roger placed his lips close to Crystal’s ear and murmured, ‘I love you.’

  
Crystal told Roger he loved him all the time and Roger usually said ‘ditto’ in reply. He very rarely told Crystal he loved him.

Crystal felt warmth spread within him as if a fire had been lit in his chest. He reached out and stroked Roger’s hair, his thumb brushing Roger’s ear. ‘Your ear is frozen,’ Crystal frowned. ‘We should’ve put a hat on you.’

  
Roger smiled. ‘You’ll have to remember that next year.’

  
Next year. Crystal felt a surge of emotion. Roger expected them to be together next year, doing this as a couple, maybe starting a tradition.

  
A Catherine wheel was spinning, shooting out sparks. Whirling light, tumbling energy, like Roger playing the drums, Crystal thought.

  
There was a bang above them, bathing Crystal’s beautiful face in pink light.

  
A flurry of powerful fireworks exploded one after the other raining golden light down on them and then a ‘goodnight’ sign lit up indicating the end of the display. Everyone clapped politely, their gloves muffling the applause and there were a few cheers.

  
‘Beautiful,’ Roger breathed, looking at Crystal. He did not mean the fireworks.

  
‘Amazing,’ Crystal said, gazing at Roger. He did not mean the fireworks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
